


Le serpent d'argent

by SissorLuv



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And some point RST, But there will be pining, Flamboyant Malfoy, Getting to know oneself, I didn't plan it as long but I know myself, I want characters to develop reasons to do what they do, M/M, Quarterlife-Crisis, Rating may go up, References to Depression, There will be URST, There will be flirting, changing your life, deep talking, gender non-conforming behaviour, hard partying, mentioning of divorce, mentioning of general homophobia, mentioning of past trauma and abuse, probably going to be semi long, there will be no explicit adultery but Harry is married and struggles with that marriage, this is about character development and realtionships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SissorLuv/pseuds/SissorLuv
Summary: Harry is married and has children. He has a career, finally gained approval by the prophet. He is everything the world wants him to be. So why can't he be happy? Why is it so difficult to breathe when he is in social situations? When did he unlearn to talk to his wife?Harry wants to get his act together and leaves for Paris - just for two weeks. Just to get another perspective. Yet, he never expected what - or rather who - he would meet.Draco Malfoy disappeared from England quite a while ago. Some people say he killed himself, others say he ran away to some far away country and lives on the money of his pureblood family. They couldn't be further from the truth and yet be right. He died and was born again. But why would he bother with his past? -  Unless it would just barge right in when he's about to have a good night out.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. 1

Paris is said to be the town of love. In a twisted way Harry appreciated the irony since he came here to think about divorce. Back in London he wasn’t able to clear his head up to a point were an informed decision was possible. Having Ginny and the kids around triggered his duty-mind all the time. He’d look at their faces, listen to their laughter and all he could see was the picture-perfect image that they portrayed. An image that gave a lot of people hope after the war. They weren’t just a family. They were The Golden Family. The Family embodying that everyone could overcome war and trauma and thrive.  
Sometimes he felt pride, joy and love. In those moments he thought he could do it. That this was his life and that all was well. Most of the time, though, he felt caged and pressured. His job as an Auror wasn’t any different. He had climbed the ladder quickly, all eyes on him, all the time. He loved the thrill, the actual hunting and investigation. He hated the publicity around it, the expectations and the pressure. 

On more than one occasion he had to remind himself how to breathe properly. His chest felt tight all the time up to the point when he had to see a healer about it and she told him to take some time off - from everything. She didn’t say it to his face, but he understood what she meant: psychosomatic disorder.  
It wasn’t that he hadn’t suspected it before. All his mandatory physical check-ups had been fine. He was fine whenever he focused on an actual task. It was at social gatherings, interviews and - he had to force himself to acknowledge that - when he was with his family, that his chest started to feel tight.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t love Ginny or his children. But. But he wasn’t happy. And he didn’t know why. So he took the healer’s advice and requested some time off. At the agency they actually approved. So did Ginny, Ron and Hermione - up to the point where he confessed that he wanted to go alone for at least two weeks. He could still see the hurt in Ginny’s face clear as day when he had told her. 

_„Why don’t you want to take us with you? The kids would love to see their father everyday! They will leave for Hogwarts eventually and we should make good use of all the time we have together… And I would love to see you, too. Lately you’ve been working even more than usual. I feel like you are detaching yourself from us and now you tell me you want to go on vacation alone… Why, Harry?“_  
_She seemed calm at the first glance. Yet, he knew her well enough to see the tight pull around her lips and the subtle glaze in her eyes.  
„I know… I am so sorry, Ginny. It is not about you or the kids. You said that you feel like I am detaching myself. And… I realized that I am really doing that. And I want it to stop. I want to reconnect. But in order to do that I need to leave for a while. I don’t know what it is, but lately I can’t calm down. It is nearly as bad as it was right after the war. You know how I was back then. I don’t want that to happen again. So, please, allow me this. I can’t explain because I don’t know myself. I just know I have to be for myself for a while.“ _

Maybe it was the fact that _he_ wasn’t able to hold back tears and cried in her arms for about an hour that finally made her give in. With Hermione he had been a little more honest, told her about the pressure he felt regarding his family. She had handed him a few books about mental health she thought might help him and recommended him to go to a place that was very different from what he had seen before. She also warned him to head to a place that was very solitary. His first thought had been to rent some cottage in Scotland and just stay there by himself. Hermione had advised him to go to a place full of life but with people who didn’t care as much about him as they did in the UK. She advised him to connect with other people, maybe even with some muggles to take his mind off the pressure in England. In the end they both thought Paris was a good call. And now, here he was, standing in front of a middle-class muggle hotel and feeling a little lighter for once.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The hotel Harry had chosen was clean and modern. First he had thought of renting a room in one of those pompous places in the style of the old French days of monarchy and splendor. Just to try it out. But it had felt too opulent, too oppressing. He had wanted something that would allow him to focus and not to distract him further. This room was perfect. It was spacious enough with a bedroom and a little sitting area and a separated bathroom. The white walls didn’t have much decor, except for an abstract painting placed directly above the bed. He quite liked the swirl of blue and green tones flecked with a little gold. The bed itself was a double with a slate grey comforter and otherwise white sheets and cushions. It felt incredibly soft to the touch. The furniture was made of wood in a light brown shade, matte instead of shiny. There was a TV positioned next to a couch that matched the comforter. He also spotted a discreetly placed fridge that most likely was the mini bar. He’d made a good choice. After he had sorted all his clothes in the cupboard he decided to have a look at the brochures about Paris in general and the quarter he was currently staying in. He’d like something to eat and browsed the food-related ones first. 

_Le serpent d’argent_ was a well recommended restaurant in Paris. The name reminded him of Slytherin which was why he was rather surprised that he found himself drawn to it immediately. Maybe it was about him wondering what would have happened, had he been sorted into Slytherin. Maybe it was the description, which was so vastly different from what he knew about House Slytherin. _Le serpent d’argent_ was _the_ place for artists of every couleur. The brochure described it as a place bustling with creative energy. Apparently it was part of an association of different bars and restaurants who had written _flamboyant and revolutionary_ on their flags. Thus they all were located in the same quarter, where the LGBTQ+ and art scene was very prevalent. Harry never had much to do with the LGBTQ+ movement, despite knowing quite a few gay people, nor did he know much about art. It was the perfect place to get to know himself better by being somewhere he had never been before and certainly wasn’t known.  
He researched some of the recent history of the quarter he was about to visit and wanted to look at least a little bit like he belonged. He had seen pictures of a lot of well-dressed, colorful people sitting in modern or classic cafes and bars. Of course those pictures were meant as advertising and probably didn’t depict the truth. But there was some kind of want arising in Harry. The want to break his mold. Maybe he could try something new.  
He felt a queasy sensation in his stomach but not in a bad way and sorted through the clothes he brought with him. It was depressing. When had he resorted to wearing only plain black clothing? After the war when he had started to earn his own money he had brought a few more daring pieces - which the prophet had found rather unbefitting for the Golden Boy. He hadn’t felt like arguing against them because of clothes and had gone for plain. Apparently at some point he had also decided that black was best for him.  
He sat down next to his pile of clothing and contemplated changing them with a spell. Yet, altering clothes wasn’t something he was familiar with. A look at the clock told him that he still had some time until his reservation was due. When was the last time he had been shopping just for himself? A little smile crept on his face. He lived rather frugal at home, never having time for himself. He could allow himself a little splurge.  
And thus, the Boy Who Lived hit the Parisian Fashion Scene. 

He was so used to dress in wizard fashion by now that the variety of the muggle fashion was quite overwhelming. The Dursley’s never had taken him shopping, which added to him feeling a little anxious. Yet there was nobody to judge him - except maybe for the fact that he was shopping alone while most people took at least one friend. He took a deep breath and managed to fight down the impeding threat of his lungs constricting. This was a mission. He could do it.  
After walking past a few more expensive looking stores and some cheaper ones but with outrageous clothes he found one that seemed to be his category of both price and style. The shirts and trousers had some patterns and colors but were far from being over the top.  
His next problem occurred when one of the staff members approached him in French. She seemed to realize quickly though, that he didn’t speak any French and proceeded in barley accented English:  
„May I help you, Sir?“  
„Erm… Yes. Probably. As you can see my wardrobe is rather dark and I’d like to change that.“  
He felt utterly clumsy but the woman was a true professional and flashed him a big smile. She asked about colors he liked, showed him different fabrics and patterns and after an hour, that didn’t feel like one at all, he went back to his hotel packed with a few new items, that made him feel proud and that he hoped he wouldn’t regret buying later. What would Ginny say, if she found out he spend his holiday alone splurging on clothes? He could’ve done that in London, too. Or together with her as a date, as a try to light the fire again. He had never thought about something like that back in England. Was this a sign that his horizon was already broadening or was it a bad sign that he felt creative curiosity arise the minute he had left home? Harry started to feel a headache coming on and stopped for coffee in a nice little café and started on one of Hermiones less threatening books on relationships and mental health. At least that made him feel like was actually trying. 

Back in the hotel he spend quite some time sorting through his new clothes and trying on different combinations. Reading and some coffee had calmed him down a little. The book even said that taking some alone-time and searching for new experiences and impressions could be helpful. He was fine. Harry settled for the blue shirt with the watercolor-print and a set of darker jeans and the new shoes he had invested in. Truth be told, he felt rather smashing. Still, there was a voice of guilt constantly whispering in his mind. Shouldn’t he work on getting his act together? Wasn’t this just distraction? Wasn’t he leaving his family alone to fix things instead of avoiding thinking? He should have gone to Scotland, shouldn’t he?  
„And what for?“, he whispered back to himself „To brood and die of sadness?“  
He had never said it like that before but it rang true. This was his chance to get a few things out of his system, to do what he never had done before and get to the root of his problem. And then he could go back to being a good father and husband. He would floo-call Ginny and the boys tomorrow. 

It turned out the restaurant was rather hard to find. Not because it was too small or hidden away in a small alleyway. It was just that the _serpent_ was surrounded by numerous other bars in a similar style and all of them seemed somehow connected but offered different menus and drinks. The patrons though seemed to be free to choose any of the many seats or comfortable sitting areas scattered around the whole complex. To him it seemed more like a mega-bar-restaurant-thingy than anything else. Were there places like this in London? The atmosphere was busy with a myriad of colors and lights. There was art placed everywhere. Hell, there even was a bar where you could sip on your drink in an empty bathtub filled with cushions. He didn’t know what to focus on. 

And that was, when he saw _him_. At first he thought he had been mistaken. Yes, there was a striking resemblance but it couldn’t be him for several reasons.  
The man currently ordering something at one of the bars had bright blond hair, almost silvery. Just, that it wasn’t slicked back but artfully tousled, shorter in the back and sides and longer on top - one of the fashionable cuts Harry had seen quite a lot in the last few weeks whenever he passed by a stall with fashion magazines.  
It was the Malfoy-color but not the Malfoy-Cut.  
He was tall and lean, the face all sharp angles with a slightly haughty air to it. Silver eyes. He looked like Draco Malfoy could have looked after growing out of his pointy youth into fully formed adulthood. The thing was: Draco Malfoy would not accentuate his eyes with kohl and mascara. He wouldn’t wear lip gloss. He wouldn’t wear a shirt with a feather-jacket to go with it. He wouldn’t wear pants so tight he probably had to spell them on. And most importantly, Draco-fucking death-eater-Malfoy wouldn’t wear boots with chunky heels to tower over his companions. So yeah, this was a weird resemblance but definitely not his old school-rival hanging out in a place called the silver snake. That would have been just too weird. Except then, when he was apparently staring a little too obviously, the man must have felt his attention and turned around to look him straight in the eyes. The man’s face fell. He blanched. His friends were suddenly concerned and started looking, too.  
Harry felt the flight-modus kick in. Just that he couldn’t move. The man - he still could’t call him Malfoy - said something to his friends and, Harry couldn’t think of another word, strutted over.  
Harry should do something. But his gaze was fixed on the approaching figure. Just a few more strides. Harry still couldn’t move. Eventually he was hit with a wave of a sensual perfume and found himself face to face with -  
„Potter.“  
That was it. The drawl. _The drawl._  
He came to Paris to leave behind his past for a few days and reclaim himself. And what did he get? Draco Malfoy in heels.


	2. 2

„Potter“, Malfoy drawled.  
It was hard to school his features into something resembling neutrality. There were lots of things going on in Harry’s mind. For one: processing this version of Malfoy and wanting to ask a thousand questions. The other: remembering who he was and thus being angry with him. And there was also a third conflicting feeling similar to exhilaration: He felt alive.  
„Malfoy.“  
He was proud to have made his voice sound cool and deep. It didn’t portray the tremor his body was locked in.  
They looked at each other, neither of them willing to talk or break eye-contact. Malfoy’s eyes made Harry uncomfortable. Thanks to the subtle eyeliner they gained intensity and Harry had to admit that he didn’t know how to deal with a man that used some form of make-up. He knew it was nothing to make fun of, yet a part of him wanted to, just because it was Malfoy. But it felt very immature. It was probably best do not address it at all but he just couldn’t.  
„You look different. Ploy to deceive the press? In England rumors are you are either dead by suicide or murder or went off to some foreign country to live off your family’s blood money. So I guess the latter is true.“  
Malfoy raised a meticulously plucked eyebrow and scoffed.  
„Really? I obviously look enough like myself for you to recognize me… and I guess the Prophet would rejoice to have a picture of me looking like this. So go ahead. Tell them, dear hero. Shall I pose for you? And no, I don’t live off my family’s money. I very much earn it myself. They aren’t exactly keen on people like me.“  
Harry didn’t know what to answer. Part of him thought it served Malfoy just right not to be accepted by his family and to be on his own now. Finally some change of perspective for the spoiled brat. Then again…he probably went through plenty of self- suppression through his youth. Had he opted for the slightest hint of make-up or flamboyant clothing in Hogwarts Hell would’ve broken loose. An image of the burned out names in the Black’s family carpet flashed before his eyes. And yet, it didn’t excuse anything.  
„Can’t say I’m full of pity. Honestly I wouldn’t put it past you to use this as a temporary way of hiding from your responsibilities.“  
Malfoy sighed dramatically.  
„Seriously, Potter. First, I served my duty and got cleared of any charges. I would be a free man if I had decided to stay in Britain. No need to go to Muggle Paris and strut around like one of the peacocks my father loved so much. Second, there would be better disguises that come with less discrimination. Third, no one cares anymore. You might still be a celebrity. I am not. I chose to start anew - not my problem you haven’t changed a bit.“  
He made a show of examining his slender hands and well manicured nails until the last part of his little speech, when he chose to give Harry a once-over look that he couldn’t place at all. Everything about it irked Harry. Especially his claim, that he, Draco bloody Malfoy, had grown as a person, while he, Harry, still was a boy basking in glory, which, by the way, he never had enjoyed, thank you very much.  
„Oh, come on, Malfoy. You might not be sentenced to serve prison but people there know what you did and you wouldn’t have had a nice life if you had stayed, so you ran away. That is how it is.“  
Malfoy shrugged.  
„See it like that. I say I chose freedom.“  
Harry was sure that his nonchalance had to be fake. He just didn’t want to own up to things like Harry did. He chose to flee. But there was one thing that didn’t make sense to Harry.  
„Why muggle Paris?“  
„I spent time in the wizarding world, too. I work as a Healer and have some wizard friends. But I spend most of my free time here because I can be myself. Wizards are coming around the idea of mixed families. But they are still quite traditional, aren’t they? I know what I am talking about. I was one of them long enough, have been raised by them…  
Even the idea of Wizards marrying Muggles derives from the notion that we need new blood for healthy offspring because otherwise there wouldn’t be enough of us. A man like me has no place in this society and is supposed to keep his mouth shut. It is different here. I can be as gay and poofy as I please. But I guess Mr. Perfect can’t relate. Heard you married the Weaslette and you are Britains favorite married couple. Congrats.“  
God, did he sound condescending. The way he occasionally nipped on his drink didn’t help at all. And what did he know about Harry’s struggle? He took the easy way. He did. While Harry tried to do what was right. He did.  
„You have no fucking idea about me or my life. At least I take on my responsibility. That is no easy job! Being you in London, that would have been something. That would have been brave!“  
„It would have been foolish. They would’ve thought all of this to be quite funny and ridiculous and made fun of what has become of traditional families. This has nothing to do with making amends. It has to do with me and who I want to be. You can berate me as much as you want, Potter, but I am done with others telling me how to live my life. And if they aren’t willing to let me be then I walk away. It is my right.“  
„Don’t you care for what others feel about that?“  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow again, yet his eyes didn’t carry the same sentiment. They looked sad just as his wry smile did.  
„From the moment on I was capable of conscious thought I cared what others felt and thought of me, up to the point where I couldn’t allow myself feelings and thoughts of my own - which is what brought me into this horrible mess that were our Hogwarts years. Not to say that is an excuse, but at least an explanation. I loved my family - I still do in a way. In their own way they cared for me, too. But sometimes it just doesn’t work out. Look, somehow I get your point of sacrificing bits of yourself for a working society. But if that means you vanish yourself it’s not worth it. Not if you don’ believe in the same values. I messed up and some things can’t be mended. You can either die or restart.“  
Harry had to stop himself from openly gaping. Much of what Draco said mirrored his own thoughts and fears. Especially this very point: Sacrifice. He was willing to die to get rid of Voldemort. It was the right thing to do. Not easy, but something that he himself felt was right. But then he came back - doomed to live a life that he had never thought he would have and that he didn’t have plans for. And then other people started to plan for him and he never had had an opportunity to be sure if their values were also his. In a way he had also always been caged by something.  
„Don’t you think that is a tat bit dramatic?“ He registered himself how unsure he sounded.  
„Are you happy, Harry? Why are _you_ here, in muggle Paris, all alone?“  
Should he let the use of the first name slide?  
„That is not an answer, _Draco_.“  
This time his smile looked downright cheeky.  
„I don’t think it is dramatic, at least not in a bad way. I mean, I quite like drama.“  
He pointed to his feathery monster of a jacket and Harry couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that.  
„Not it is your time to answer.“  
Harry shrugged.  
„I needed some time off. It was a bit much. I believe in living up to your responsibilities… but everybody needs some time off.“  
He didn’t want to go too deep into the mess of his mind. Malfoy scrutinized him for a while. Harry felt twitchy.  
„Okay… so, I have an idea. I don’t believe in your values or at least don’t think they are feasible. You don’t believe in mine. You have seen me now anyway and can do whatever you like in regards to the Prophet anyway. The slate it blank. Do you want to join us for the night? They are all Muggles. There can’t be any talk of Magic. There will be no Deatheater, no Golden Boy. What do you say?“  
Harry took a deep breath and now it was him who looked Draco up. He was the same and yet so utterly changed and seemingly unashamed of it. He had found a new ecosystem in which he could thrive, shedded his past like old skin. Harry was curious, he couldn’t deny it.  
„Fine. And just so you know: I have no intention of telling anyone from the press I have seen you. I don’t even know if I want to share it with anyone else. This feels so very unreal, I want to have this experience for myself. I would never have thought the two of us would have a drink, especially not in circumstances like this.“  
The cocky grin Malfoy flashed him now lacked all the mean force from before and was all the answer he gave. He just nodded at him to follow and so he did. 

The group Malfoy introduced him to consisted of six people. There was Etienne with his boyfriend Charles. Etienne worked in an art gallery, while Charles owned an MMA studio. Harry caught himself being ashamed at his first thought: That being an MMA-Instructor was a quiet masculine job for a gay man. He didn’t even know, if he was gay, he heard Hermione say in his head, he might be bi or something else entirely. And he could have whichever job he liked. Since when had he started thinking like that, categorizing people so readily?  
There was Izzy, who worked as a musician and had parts of her afro died in vibrant colors and several golden piercings. Harry liked her immediately because she reminded him of Tonks. Next to her stood Morenna, who looked a little bit like she could be Malfoy’s sister, tall and blond and icy as she was. She owned a not so small business but didn’t go into detail. Needless to say, she was terrifying and - how else could it be - seemed very close to Malfoy. Their outfits matched, even though hers was a more sophisticated version of his. Harry hoped he’d never be targeted by both their sharp tongues at the same time.  
Sharif was a calm man, who Harry could easily see in his job as a teacher with his easy smile and deep but non-threatening voice. Last but not least, there was Simone, who was about the tallest woman Harry had ever seen. Her face was very clear-cut and her shoulders quite strong with a tapered waist. Although being already tall, she wore neck-breaking heels. Yet, she had a warm feel to her - which probably wasn’t that hard next to Izzy’s effortless coolness and Morenna’s iron exterior. Harry felt decidedly uncool and boring - and he loved it. Malfoy addressed his friends in French first - a language that sounded easy and beautiful coming from him. Harry whisked he could understand what he was saying.  
He introduced Harry in English:  
„This is Harry. We know each other from school and I made his life hell back then and he mine. We quite hated each other and now we’ll see what comes off it…“  
„So you’re one of those people, who knew our Draco when he was one of the closeted bad guys?“, Morenna asked, slowly stirring her drink.  
„Very closeted and very bad and not in the fun way“, Draco answered.  
„Can I please hear again how your white supremacist ancestors would turn in agony in their graves could they see you now in our beautiful company?“ Izzy nudged him in the side.  
„I’d rather not have them see us like that because they would decide to rise from their graves to haunt us forever.“  
„We could become Zombie hunters“, Charles offered.  
Harry was surprised that Malfoy had apparently told them a half-truth about his past. Interesting.  
„So, what do you do, Harry?“, Simone asked.  
„I, er, work for the police. It has been quite stressful lately, so I decided to take some time off.“  
„Cheers to that“, Sharif said „We all work too much.“  
„Now we have someone wo used to be racist and a police officer in our midst. I think it will be _my_ ancestors turning in agony.“  
Izzy trough herself in Sharif’s Arm dramatically. He patted her head and sushed her like a baby.  
„I feel like I’m not being taken seriously here.“  
„Because“, Draco said „This evening is not supposed to be serious. Drink up, bitch“  
He handed her another drink.  
„What’s it for you, Harry?“  
„A beer for starters, I guess.“  
„Tame. Boring. But whatever.“  
He gestured to the Bartender and handed Harry his beer.  
„How did you find this place?“, Etienne asked.  
„I browsed some of the brochures in the hotel and wanted to take a look.“  
„Harry lives the straight British dream and probably has to walk into the cellar to have a good, honest laugh. At least that was how my parents did it. He needs to lighten up a bit“, Malfoy sweetened the bite of his words with a little wink that caused some weird twitching in Harry’s abdomen.  
„Well, many straights are here to have a look. It’s a place for mingling cultures, so be welcome!“ Simone patted him on the shoulder. No one asked about his wife or children and Harry was happy for that. 

Later in the evening they had settled for a small booth settled in a bar with lots of wood, plants, cushions and fairy lights. Charles and Entienne had opted for one of the bath tubs. Seldom had Harry seen couples looking so happy and at ease with each other as these two - even though they seemed so different at the first glance. Morenna and Malfoy - Draco - somehow managed to look very regal while trying to outdo each other in terms of whiskey consumption. Harry didn’t feel safe enough yet for anything else than beer. He already had a comfortable buzz going on and wanted to enjoy the evening safely without the risk of getting too drunk. Sharif and Simone seemed to sense that he needed a little bit of comfort and stuck to him whenever the others went a little loud and crazy - which happened surprisingly often - especially Draco and Izzy seemed to enjoy setting each other off and to drink to sisterhood after that.  
„How did you all get to know each other?“, Harry asked Sharif.  
„Charles and Etienne are a unit since forever. I think Charles met Draco when he was looking for some art for his new flat. Draco and Mor met when they were attending a meeting for business owners, because Draco thinks of taking another route besides being a doctor, Izzy and Draco met by arguing at a concert and getting shit-faced together after she punched him in the nose, which he says reminded him of a very impressive woman that he knew and still owes an apology to. I met Draco when I hit on him but then we got along so well, he didn’t want to fuck me because that would ruin everything and I guess he was right. We are better off as friends and I have Izzy now, which is a way better match. Simone and Draco met at this voluntary service about gender issues. And we all know each other because of that blond fuck over there who hates to be alone most of the time and then disappears on you for a few days. But we love him a lot.“  
Harry gaped. That was a lot of information to process. Especially the Izzy punching him in the nose thing. The charity thing. And also that he seemed to be the core of this little tight-knight group of people. But then again… even as his old, prickly self he had been a leader in House Slytherin. Maybe that was something he did.  
„That doesn’t sound like his old self to be honest…“  
„He mentioned that he used to do a lot of bad things in England and left to start anew as a better human being. Sometimes you still see it. When he feels cornered he can get really mean. But Izzy and Mor are good at reigning him in.“  
„I think finally living his true self has helped him a lot“, Simone chimed in „We didn’t know him when he got to France. He lived in Lyon before and figured out a lot about himself before he got here. He doesn’t talk much about that time. It must have been hard. Especially as a man caught between worlds, like he is. I get that. Before I started my transition I lashed out a lot, too. That is great about this place. No one judges you for your past, if you show interest in owning up to it. Izzy still wants him to apologize to that mysterious women, who - Oh wait! He said he want to school with her! You must know her!“  
„I do. She is a good friend of mine. Hermione. He used to insult her a lot, in a very derogatory way. She always bested him in school and at one point she punched him. It was quite a sight.“  
„How do you think she would react to an apology?“  
„I think she would be open to talk… with her husband I am not so sure, though.“  
„Well… if the two of you can sit together and have a drink, maybe he’ll be brave enough to do it. You could provide the contact, right?“  
„If he wants to…“  
„We’ll see about that. How long are you staying?“  
„About two weeks, I think. But him and I haven’t talked that much that evening. I’ve mostly hung out with you two - which was great by the way.“  
„Aww, you are cute. Likewise. But. You’re right. This is not what it should be. Would you like to get to know this version of Draco?“  
Surprisingly Harry very much would, so he nodded.  
„It will happen“, Sharif said but did nothing for now. 

It was even later in into the night that Sharif and Simone went for the last round of drinks and Draco plopped down next to Harry.  
„I have to concede, I am a little drunk. Teensy-weensy. Which is why I can’t have a serious talk with you.“  
„Does it have to be serious?“  
„With the two of us I figure it would become serious quite easily, don’t you think?“  
„Probably.“  
Malfoy positioned himself so he could look at Harry directly. He still looked very handsome, if indeed a little drunk.  
„I didn’t think you’d spend that much time with us.“  
„I didn’t think you’d have friends this nice. I wouldn’t have sat down with Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle.“  
„Yeah… they say friends reflect who you are… I’m still in contact with Pansy. She changed, too. She gets me and visits quite often actually. But that is beside the point. Point is, we’re both a little surprised here. And I’d like to talk with you sober. So, what about Brunch tomorrow? O would you feel better, if Sharif or Simone would tag along? Do you want to go at all?“  
Toward the end he spoke rather fast, which was kind of endearing. Yeah, Malfoy and endearing.  
„I’d like that…and I don’t need emotional support for that, even though I really like the two.“  
„Great! Let’s say late Brunch. 11:30. I know a great place and will send you a crow in the morning.“  
„A crow?“  
„A crow, yes. They are common in cities. An owl isn’t precisely subtle. Where are you staying?“  
„In the Castiglione. 303. Can you remember that?“  
Draco plucked a pen out of his jacked and rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. There was one tattoo Harry know had to be there. The dark mark, still harsh against the pale skin. Beneath it was another one. It said: Never Again. Remember. In bright, gold ink that had to be of magic origin.  
If he had had doubts before, this tattoo discarded them.  
He took the pen and wrote down his address. The smile in Draco’s face seemed honest.  
„See you tomorrow?“  
„See you tomorrow.“

Shortly after their exchange the others came back and they spend their last round with a card game Etienne wanted to play. When it came to say goodbye everyone kissed Harry on both cheeks until he stood in front of Malfoy. Crap. He seemed a little uneasy, too.  
„French goodbye or British?“, he finally said. Kiss to the cheek or straight bloke handshake me meant.  
„It is an evening of new things… wouldn’t want to kill the magic.“  
Maybe he had had too much.  
The smell of Draco’s sweet fragrance and the feel of his surprisingly soft lips stayed with much longer after they parted. His whole body had felt tingly. Possibly because all of it was so surreal. And this whole experience was his. He didn’t have to share it for now. He could keep it without anyone commenting and that felt wonderful. Still a part of him wanted to rush to Hermione and tell her. But there were too many strings attached. And, boom, full circle, he was back to Ginny, the kids, the ministry and everything. He shouldn’t delude himself. He could enjoy this break but in the end Malfoy’s way wasn’t his. He could use a little inspiration but he’d never life the life of a Boheme. But maybe, maybe he’d feel a little more at ease knowing that other people had managed to find their way despite everything. Draco had managed to be a different person. Maybe he had had to cut off many ties for that, but Harry’s position was different.  
He would get to know Draco and his life and then see what he could adapt for himself. A little bit of Brunch wouldn’t take away too much time from the thinking he still had to do. Right.  
When he lay down, he reviewed the evening again and fell asleep to the sound of laughter and the smell of vanilla and whiskey.


End file.
